The Devil's Gentlemen
by Sanguinary Tears
Summary: Because of a kiss, Cain and Riff are forced to separate from each other. Cain is sent away into the countryside and imprisoned. Riff is sent to an asylum where he is destined to die. Two unlikely persons, however, are determined to help them escape.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Count Cain/Godchild. Kaori Yuki solely has that honour alone. All rights are served to her._

_

* * *

_

_The Devil's Gentlemen _

_Chapter I_

Beyond that door was another world he had never anticipated to belong to. No matter what his title was neither he nor they could ever say they understood the other. Beyond that door that separated him from them, he did not have the honor of having but one person who understood and accepted him without resent or disapproving eyes. That person was the very same he found embraced in, with their lips pressed together in a sweet kiss that they had been waiting for.

Cain felt his body go limp and his mind senseless when Riff kissed him passionately. This was something that they had always wanted, but society and morals had forbid from them from doing so. But Cain was not in the habit of obliging with such things if they were an obstacle from something he wanted and claimed he had a right to have no matter what the consequences. And what extravagant consequences indeed if they were found out!

A thick noose would adorn their guilty neck's and see them to the other side where hopefully such restraints to love no longer existed, if they were caught. For once in so many years, they would happily greet death as long as they were to die together. It was separation that Cain and Riff feared the most. And it was separation that was dealt.

So lost were they in the heated moment that they did not hear the door to the library room open, but it was the gasp that made them aware of the presence standing before them, mouth open and eyes wide from shock and disgust. Riff quickly released Cain, but stood besides him.

"What in the hell is going on here!" Cain's uncle Neil yelled in a fit of fury. Cain had never heard him swear before, which told him they were in deep trouble. Cain attempted to speak, but his throat refused to utter a word. Riff made an effort to say something, but Cain stopped him.

"Nothing that can't be explained, Uncle." Cain remarked coldly. He didn't like the way his uncle was eyeing Riff and he voiced it out. "Don't look at Riff like that, he—"

"He what? I refused to believe the rumours once I became aware of them, Cain, but this proves they are right! Do you know what will happen once word gets out of this scandal, Cain? The family's name will be ruined just as it was when—" Uncle Neil exclaimed.

Cain interrupted him and rejoinder, "I don't care about the family's name. And I certainly don't care about what the entire populace of London thinks about this!"

Uncle Neil gnashed his teeth and uttered irately, "If you don't care about _your_ name, then that can't be helped since I know you've already made up your mind about this, but I ask you to think about your sister, Mary Weather! Do you know what will happen to her if this reaches the ears of the general public? And besides that, you both will be hanged!"

"The only way anyone is going to know about this, is if you decide to tell them, Lord Neil." Riff added, formally and respectfully. Cain smiled, even if this was not the right time to smile, but he liked hearing his butler's voice. Uncle Neil glared hotly at Riff and retorted, "I should have guessed you would be behind this. You poisoned Cain's mind and now you intend to disgrace his name and ruin him!"

"You're mistaken, sir. I've done nothing to seduce your grandson." Riff remarked firmly. Cain smiled, and shared a look with his manservant.

"You haven't, have you _Riffael Raffit_? I don't care which one of you began this, the only thing I am going to tell you both is that this night will not come to an end until we fix this mess!" Uncle Neil announced unrepentantly.

"And would do you suggest we do?" Cain challenged. Things were not going as he had imaged them they would. He had in the least thought his uncle would give them a warning or something, but not what he said next.

"What I plan to do to _fix _this little problem is relatively simple. Cain, you will be sent to the country-side estate where you will not leave until your feelings for this _man_ are abolished and _Mr. Raffit _here will be sent to London's asylum, where he will be as far away from you as possible." Uncle Neil declared. He was not kidding, he was serious. From the first time he had met Riff, he had known from then that he would get Cain into trouble, but he hadn't thought he would be capable of doing such a thing as this!

"What! You can't do this Uncle Neil! You can't send Riff to a damn asylum, he isn't mad! I won't allow it!" Cain snapped, grabbing onto his manservant's arm for dear life. Riff's face displayed nothing but horror. Cain didn't get a chance to argue further before he was dragged from the room and Riff was locked inside the library room to keep him from escaping or running after his master.

"No, Riff! Riff! Let me go Uncle Neil! You can't do this, please don't lock him in an asylum." Cain implored desperately while he tried to get away from his uncle and return to Riff. Cain could hear Riff banging the door to get out, but the door wouldn't budge. He could make out his manservant's deep velvety voice call out his name. "Lord Cain! Lord Cain!" A tear escaped from Cain's eye and he whispered before he was pushed from the house and thrown into the waiting carriage, "Riff…I love you."

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed so far. I'm sorry Cain and Riff were...uh out of character. Please review! 


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Count Cain/Godchild. Kaori Yuki solely has that honour alone. All rights are served to her._

_

* * *

_

_The Devil's Gentlemen _

_Chapter II_

Cain threw himself against the sealed door and screamed every obscenity he had ever heard in his life hoping to get a reaction from those on the other side of the door. His cries and pleas were dismissed as if they were the wind blowing by. He clawed and kicked at the door, but no one came to shush him or comfort him. After trying for two long hours and getting no response at all from anyone, Cain slid down to the floor and cried in agony.

It was like reliving his childhood all over again. No one acknowledge his presence and they all had orders to ignore him. The only difference in this reenactment of his childhood was there was no Riff to appear from the darkness and come to him as he had that night. The thought of his imprisoned manservant brought unrestrained tears to his rigorous golden-green eyes.

As he wept silently, there came a soft rasping on the door behind him. Cain gasped and looked to the door and listened. Again there was someone knocking, but who could it be? The young miserable earl listened and said nothing.

"Big brother, please answer me; it's only me Mary Weather, you're sister. Won't you please see me? I miss you and I'm worried about you." Said the tender voice on the other side of the door. Cain's eyes seemed to regain a fragment of hope and he stood up. He gently touched the door and whispered hoarsely, "Mary Weather…why have you come here? Have you heard word from…him?"

"Please, if you would let me in I can tell you everything that I know." Mary Weather persuaded her older brother. From behind the closed door she could hear Cain laugh humorlessly. She stared at the door and feared something was wrong. Right when she was about to ask if all was well with him—though there was nothing in reality fine with him—he answered her as if he had read her mind.

"Hm, Mary, you know very well I would let you in, however, I am not the one locking this damn door." Cain returned. He could hear movement on the other side and a second later his young sister appeared before him. She was dressed in cheerful vibrant clothing, but her eyes displayed nothing but sorrow. She stepped in holding a stuffed animal and the door closed behind her. Cain smiled at her and she ran into his arms.

"Big brother, I've missed you so much! It's not fair that you're here. Uncle Neil shouldn't have done this to you and Riff! We have to get you out of here. I know I can get that buffoon of Oscar to help me get you out of here! Yes, it has to work!" Mary Weather suggested she clung onto her brother with such a force that it made Cain smiled more. He had missed her, and she him. Cain pulled her away, his smile wavering and he stood.

Cain shook his head and walked to the large window, which happened to be barred, to look out into the spacious gardens. Mary Weather slowly followed him and waited to hear him speak. Cain leaned against the side of the glass and stared off into the horizon.

"No, Mary. Don't even think about such things. It would only get us into deeper trouble then what we're dealing with now. I don't care about staying here I'm more worried about what Uncle Neil has planned for Riff. Speaking of Riff, you haven't see him, have you, Mary?" Cain asked hopefully. His eyes sparkled and some colour returned to his pallor countenance. Mary Weather's smile died on her lip and she lowered her gaze to stare at her feet. Cain's smile faded and he knew what it meant.

"I'm sorry Cain, but Uncle Neil has forbid just about anyone to see Riff. He won't even let me go see him. Oh, Cain this isn't fair! Please let me help you!" Mary Weather cried in hope to raise her brother's enthusiasm. "My answer to your request is no, Mary Weather. These are grave affairs that must be dealt with delicacy. Don't tempt our dear uncle, Mary. Remember Riff's life is in his hands. If he wanted to, he could have Riff hanged under false charges. We can't have that, now can we Mary?" Cain said.

"But you have to let me help you, Cain; if not me then who?" Mary Weather said. She wanted to help her brother and their beloved manservant desperately. When Cain kept denying her help, she knew she was going to have to do this on her own and she knew just the person who could help her. The only thing was that she needed to go and look for him.

Before Cain could answer her, their meeting was cut short. Before heading to the door, Mary Weather hugged her brother and handed him the stuffed bear she had been holding. Cain grabbed the bear and looked down at it with a puzzled expression. Mary Weather gave him a knowing look. Cain smirked and walked his sister to the door. With a parting kiss on the cheek, Mary Weather left her brother to his own thoughts. Once more the door was closed and Cain was left alone with only the company of the stuffed bear to share his solitude and misery.

Cain held the bear in his hands and weighed it. He gave it a shake and heard the swooshing of liquid inside its stuffed body. Cain allowed a smug smirk to tug on the corners of his pale lips. It would seem his stay here at the country-side estate would not be as maddening as he had thought it was going to be after all.

_§—§_

Riff gazed straight to the bare white cushioned wall that consisted of his small cell room. There was nothing but those four plain walls and a small shelf bed. He was dressed in white, which made him look more like a ghost then a living person. The last few days he had been here, he felt angry that he could not save his master. He blamed himself for this misfortune that had befallen them. Had he not kissed his master, then they would be free, but he hadn't thought. He had only acted.

Riff lowered his gaze to the chains that were wrapped around his bruised wrists and sighed. He was considered a danger to himself and to those around him. If the situation wasn't so serious, he would have laughed at their claims that he was a danger. But he didn't feel like laughing. He only felt like dying. He missed his lord terribly, two weeks being denied his presence was enough to make the young manservant go mad. Since his arrival to this dreadful place, it had been nothing but hell. Morning, afternoon, and evening he was forced to swallow medication that only made him sick instead of curing him, and they injected unnecessary vaccines into his veins.

He knew perfectly well all the things that they forced against him, only served to make his health decline. There was no need of all these pills and shoots. If they wanted to help his sanity and health—which they didn't, they would leave him alone. That way he could rest from them, and they from him. Riff closed his eyes to rest them from staring into the darkness for so long. Besides the fact that he was damned to solitude, he was denied the pleasure of light. All that surrounded him was darkness. It was no wonder why patients turned for the worst instead of getting better in places like these.

None of this was a surprise to him at all. Before he had been dragged here, he knew what awaited him. He had been, after all, studying to become a doctor and so that gave him an advantage. His thoughts were intruded upon when he heard keys jingling outside his cell. He opened his eyes and waited. Whoever it was, their reason for being there must have been a secretive one. Indeed there was a reason why he was confined to solitude and isolated away from the other patients. _Lord Neil_ had paid the head doctor a decent amount of money so only a few knew about Riff's being there. Only four persons knew he was here and of the four, and no one else.

The door to his cell opened and he was impelled to shield his eyes from the bright light that poured in from the other side. The door was left ajar and the person standing at the threshold watched in amusement as Riff struggled to accustom his eyes to the light. The visitor smiled blandly and announced, "Does the light hurt you, Riff? I'm sorry about that. Get up, let us have a walk and talk a bit."

It took half a second for Riff's mind to recognize the man's voice and his eyes snapped open. He stared up at him and his eyes turned sharp. "Doctor Jezebel Disraeli, this is the most unlikely place I ever though to see you at. Judging by your appearance here, you all ready know the reason behind my stay here in London's mental facilities? What is the reason for your visit Doctor Disraeli?" Riff remarked evenly.

Jezebel smiled and turned Riff's head to the side and examined the bruises that decorated his neck. His eyes then rested on the metal collar around the butler's throat and he said slowly, "What a curious piece of jewelry they have placed around your neck, Riff. As to the reason behind my little visit, I will tell you once you agree to a little walk with me."

"I see no reason why I should deny your offer, Doctor." Riff returned as he observed the other with a cautious look. Whatever had brought Jezebel here, Alexis must have had some influence. Jezebel smiled and removed the collar binding Riff like a bad behaved dog.

_§—§_

* * *

_A/N: Well here's chapter II. I'm sorry Riff, Cain, and Mary Weather were out-of-character. It was not my intention to make them ooc, but it just happened. I hoped you enjoyed. And thank you to those who've reviewed! Please review and tell me what you think so far.__ Bye-bye my dears!_


	3. Chapter 3

My God; it's been too long since I've written anything! I'm so sorry, I really am. I hope you can all forgive me, but I had a serious case of writer's block. Hm, I'm not pleased with this chapter, but I hope you can all find it in yours hearts to forgive me, please! Okay enough rubbish; here's the third chapter, enjoy!

_

* * *

_

_The Devil's Gentlemen_

_Chapter III_

It was a stroll he asked, and it was a stroll they went on. Freed from the cold metal and the confinements of a dark room, Riff was overjoyed to exchange all that for the warm sensation of the sun over his head, and the fresh air filling his suffocated lungs. God knew it had been too long since he had had a chance to stretch his legs properly and inhale purified winds (even if London's atmosphere was far from purified, but to Riff it made no difference).

At his side was the doctor with his arm linked with his and ushered him down the pathway. They said nothing until they were far from the asylum and the guards. Jezebel broke their bond and faced a startling imperturbable Riff. Jezebel smirked impishly, finding it utterly amusing Riff was still able to remain calm and placid under his current circumstances. Jezebel knew as he knew Riff did, that the loyal house steward of the Hargreaves estate could very well make a break for it, to use the vulgar phrase here, and go after his master.

But it was either with what little remained of his sagacity or it was the knowledge that he would not get far that compelled him to stay besides the adept doctor. And it was the doctor who took it upon himself to break the icy silence bestowed (or cursed) upon them.

"I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here, Riffael; I don't blame you in the least. After all," Jezebel began, smiling mischievously, "you are in an asylum."

Riff looked at the latter with hard and dangerously calm eyes; he waited a moment before answering him.

"You're right; I am curious to know why you're here." Riff said and added sardonically, "I've even been entertaining the thought that you might keep me company in my confinements down in solitary where we both know _you _belong."

It was not in Riff's respectful and well-mannered nature to be sarcastic, but now was one of the few times when he broke out of character, and lowered himself to his adversary's level. Jezebel was taken aback by Riff's outburst; he did not show it however. He hid his astonishment behind a quaint, almost saddening smile.

"It's not like you to use irony at all, Riffael. This dilemma of yours must be getting to you." Jezebel couldn't help but comment on it. Again uncomfortable stillness descended upon them as they walked further down the path and came face-to-face with the great obstacle that held Riff back—the asylum's ten foot tall wall.

His dull blue eyes hopelessly studied it and sighed. There was no possible or likely way that he would ever be able to climb over that mighty wall and get on the other side of it. He could have discarded all his hopes to the winds that blew passed them that moment, but Riff was not a man of that resolution.

The longer he stared at it, the more desire he had of conquering over it. If anything, the wall only made things more entertaining for him. One thing he could guarantee all, even the doctor, he would not die in this hellhole. He was one of mind to escape; but even he knew he was going to need help. And it was succor which he did not intend on finding.

"The walls should be the least of your concerns, Riffael. It's what you have to face over this every wall that should intimidate you." Jezebel's voice cut through Riff's firm thoughts that it caused him to start. His pounding heart was at his mouth when he spun around and fixed Jezebel with cold glare.

Jezebel brushed it aside with another of his wicked smirks and chuckled softly. Riff looked away before he comprehended the doctor's words. Reluctantly he turned round and inquired sharply, "What do you mean I should be intimidated by what's on the other side of that," Riff pointed to the wall. "I still don't understand why you are here."

"Have patience with me for just a bit longer, Riffael, then I'll make it worth your wait. I have to first prepare you for the worst before I lay everything for you." That was all he said on the subject. Without much choice, Riff waited and waited until he thought he would go mad—and he wasn't jesting.

When he was satisfied that he had made Riff suffer long enough, Jezebel withdrew a letter from the inside of his jacket, a hand and seal he knew all too well even from the distance. In his hands, the doctor held Riff's only strength and reason for not going mad. Life returned to him and waited anxiously to see the letter.

"I don't have to waste my breath and tell you who wrote this do I, Riffael? Of course not; you know it's a letter from her." Jezebel spoke frankly. He opened it and handed Riff the letter so he could read it from himself. Riff unceremoniously yanked it from his hands and devoured every word and meaning it contained.

The writer was none other then Mary Weather, informing Riff that his and Cain's current quandary had required her to ask the succor of one Doctor Jezebel Disraeli, her half brother, who was now standing in front of him like an apparition. The letter went further as to instruct him to have _faith_—image! She asked him to trust Jezebel knowing he was capable of anything at any given moment if he let his guard down. Knowing quite well what his reaction would be at hearing this distressing news, Mary Weather went as far to reassure him that Jezebel was doing this under regulations they had agreed upon. Regulations that was unknown to either Riff or Cain. But what ever they were, she swore they would keep the doctor in line—for some time at least.

The letter ended in a brief summary about her brother—news Riff was thrilled to be acquainted with—and informed him Cain was not fairing so well without him. She made a quick reference that Cain was (obviously) not acting like himself, and it was beginning to scare everyone. He wouldn't speak to anyone, not even her, and refused to eat entirely. All he would do was pace and stare out the window or read book after book he asked the servants and her to bring him. And it shouldn't surprise him in the least what those books were; they were his tomes of poisons that he had back in his estate in London.

Riff found it cruelly ironic that he was here in London, a few miles away from that very estate which he used to serve, while his master was out in the countryside asking them to bring his tomes when he could very well do it if he wasn't restrained. She ended the letter with how much she missed him and Cain, and to his amusement, she found Oscar's constant presence in their household vexing and unnerving. That was all she said and nothing more.

He stared transfixed at the letter, a mixture of exult and sorrow fighting in his mind. No words in the English language could describe his joy, but contrary, no words in the English language could understand the grief he felt at learning his lord was dying a slow death. Mary Weather did not have to write it plainly; she alluded to it. And that was enough to cause Riff distress.

"So you are to _succor_ me, is that correct? Why?" Riff asked without thinking. It was all so strange and foreign to him. Just what deal could he and Mary Weather had agreed on? Did he want to know? Did he really want to know? Yes; and yes.

"I am, but I can't tell you under what circumstances I am working under." Jezebel reposed, then threw in, "If I told you what they were, then I'd be taking the fun out of things." That was enough to inform Riff Mary Weather had pledged something grave for his and Cain's sake.

His next question was this: "And how do you propose to get me out of this impenetrable inferno, Doctor?"

If was possible at all, Jezebel's smirk grew into a genuine broader and equally maliciously smile. Riff wanted to take a step back, but he wouldn't move; he had no intentions of moving until he was answered.

Jezebel's eyes twinkled with unrestrained mirth and they sparkled brightly as they burrow into Riff's mirrors to his heart and soul.

"How else, Riff? I plan to get you out of this place dead." Jezebel could have laughed at Riff's expression; but he didn't. He only smiled as Riff's faced palled more and he looked faint.

He supported his unsteady form with the wall behind him as he stuttered, "What?"

* * *

Everyone was astonished into an uncomfortable silence as they heard his anxious footfalls cease, and all was still on the other side of the locked door. It wasn't like the Earl to stop; it was barely a little over one in the afternoon. Their curiosity was strong, but their fear was stronger yet. They wanted to peek through the keyhole and see with their own eyes what the young Earl was doing, but for their own sake, they dared not do so unless they were ready to meet their Maker. 

Cain was seated by the window in a red recliner in a frighteningly languid and disinterested manner; his long legs were crossed and he was staring out into nothing new and exciting. His graceful hands stirred a cup of tea that he had not bothered to sip; he just stirred it to give him something to do. A metallic reflection that was caused by the bright sun from the direction of the grand piano that he had access to, gleamed alluringly and caught his attention.

He looked over in that direction and smiled. The small silver tag around the stuff animal's neck, the same one Mary Weather had given him a few days ago, had captured the sun's vivid beams, and reminded him of it being there. To be earnest, he had forgotten about it and its contents. Noiselessly Cain rose and strolled over to the element of his attention and picked it up gingerly as if it were a thing made of flesh and blood instead of stuffing and silk.

He gave the small animal a gentle squeeze; confirming its prize was still inside it. Mary Weather had been very much considerate with him; she went out of her way at the risk of facing their uncle's wrath and concealed something she knew he would find comfort in. Cain turned the animal around in his hands so the little inanimate thing was facing the floor; he diligently manufactured a small incision in the middle of its back and with his fingers pried it open and pulled out a small exotically designed vial that contained what appeared to be arsenic.

He had plans for using the arsenic; it was just a matter of when.

* * *

_Before I ask, I really want to thank every one who reviewed and encouraged me to continue! Even if it took me...four months? to continue. So a million thank you_'_! So what do you guys think? Do you hate it? Like it? Or is it just plain crappy? Oh, please tell me what you think. I_'_m anxious to know if this was worth the wait. Okay, I guess I_'_ll say good-bye here. _


	4. Chapter 4

_The Devil's Gentlemen_

_Chapter IV_

It wasn't the most ingenious plan he had concocted, but what made this plan of his stand out from the others he had contemplated and discarded when he didn't like was a planned he deemed eminently outlandish. What Cain liked about the plan he had chosen to execute guaranteed the element of surprise and it offered Cain a chance to scare the entire household so he could make his brilliant escape and make haste for London and find Riff. Then he would deal with his father who the young earl had matters to settle with before any more time passed.

It was just that his plan relied heavily on time and on the right moment. Cain wasn't patient. He had never been and it was hard for him to have any when so much was at stake. He was dreading the hour when his uncle would barge into his room and inform him he had done away with Riff, having his neck stretched and being displayed publicly in front of the Tower of London. The mere thought sent a bitter chill down his spine.

Cain had everything ready for his escape. The arsenic was in reach, the bronze paste polisher had been conveniently left by the foolish maid in her haste and a box of strike on matches was housed safely in his coat. All the elements of his escape were in his hands, only time was his enemy.

With a restless sigh, Cain looked over to the clock and read the time to be six o' clock in the afternoon. Things had been uneventful for the past week in the country-house. The only exciting thing had been the rain that came on its own accord. How lucky of the rain!

Other then that all was commonplace and it was driving Cain mad with boredom. When he had been little and Riff would read him a story before going to bed, he had always imaged from what Riff told him that being held captive would bring about some danger, any kind, just as long as it was daring and thrilling and made the blood rush. But the only danger Cain had to face was getting a concussion from all the times he'd banged his head on his desk.

Riff…

His mere name triggered thoughts of happier times that sweep through Cain's mind. How he missed him dreadfully! His lukewarm touch and those rare smiles he only showed to him. They were like secrets that only they knew about. Cain missed it all. Not bearing the silence around him anymore, Cain swiftly stood up from the settee and sauntered to the bookcase decorating a large portion of the room. They had once been touched and read by the former Earl Hargreaves, Alexis.

Pushing aside the bitter thought, Cain picked a random book from the shelves and skimmed through it, not intending to read a single word only to provide him with something to do. He snapped it shut and slid it back into its resting place. But it wouldn't fit perfectly as it had a second ago. Cain frowned, pulled out the book again and heard the faintest click, the bookcase suddenly giving way and opening slightly. Intrigued by his discovery, Cain placed the book on a small table and walking over to the fireplace; he grabbed a candle and proceeded to explore the secret passageway.

From the many times he had visited the country-house, he had never been aware of this secret location which was odd considering he had been sure he had left no nook or cranny unexplored. Deeming it of no importance now, Cain pushed open the bookcase and went inside. The small flame of the candle illuminated enough for him to walk inside without running into anything.

His footsteps resounded and bounced off the walls, giving the impression the passageway wounded deep underground the house. Minutes passed and the only thing he felt were the moist walls on either side of him, making him feel as if he were locked within a catacomb. Cain looked behind him and saw the light coming from the fireplace in his room was but a small speck of light. He really was trotting into uncharted areas of the house.

He was more excited then scared as he continued down the passageway. The blood in his veins coursed swiftly through his body and made his heart pound against his chest. At last after walking in the dark like a blind man, Cain saw the hazy shape of a door in front of him. He stopped before it, lightly touching the damp door with his fingertips. The hinges were oxidized and clearly gave the appearance the door had not been disturbed in many years, possibly the last time had been seventeen years ago before his birth.

Cain reached out and turned the doorknob and gave it a push forward but it wouldn't dislodge from its inertness. Again he gave it a push until it finally opened with a loud screech. He covered the candle's flame with his hand as he peeked inquisitively inside the room. With a thorough sweep of his melancholy eccentric eyes that were all the envy of those who saw them, much to his astonishment Cain deduced he was in the cellar. Seeing no one around, he stepped inside and placed the candle on a barrel and searched the room.

In front of him was the door that led upstairs to the kitchen, behind him was the door he had just stepped out of, concealed by large barrels of wine and finally to his right there was another door, also obscured by stacked wooden crates and boxes all gathering dust. All this he logged into his mind, archiving for later use if need be. Silently Cain crept towards the door to his left and unlocked it as quietly as he could.

With less noise then the previous door, the door succumbed to the earl's command and opened into the eastern side of the gardens, the same gardens Cain saw each time he looked out his windows in his room. A smug smile broke out across his lips; the gentle breeze of evening lightly running through his hair and giving him a taste of freedom. He could have stayed there all night, better yet escaped, but the clattering of dishes being washed and meals being prepared for the evening meal brought Cain out of his reveries.

Cain quickly closed the door leading to the outside world, fastened it and hurried on silent feet back down the passageway with the door locked behind him and returned to his room, re-sealing the bookcase and all the while still smiling. He numbly picked up the book he had left on the table and sat down on the settee with it in his hands.

It was a very pleasant and curious discovery he had made that would come in handy soon.

* * *

As much as the thought of forging his death and being placed in a coffin and expected to be the next cadaver for some beginning physician to practice on made Riff uneasy, he knew it was the only way that ensure his freedom. Before returning him to his cell/hell, Jizabel gave Riff a small capsule, a similar one he had used on his first meeting with Cain and Riff. He told Riff to place it on his last tooth on the top row and to bite down on it to give him the appearance of _rigid mortis_.

The good doctor explained everything clearly and painted an accurate picture for Riff and what he should expect. Jizabel gave him the order to bite down on the capsule of poison at precisely eight o' clock subsequently three days after their meeting. Seeing the dubious look on Riff's face, Jizabel reassured him that he would be called by the owner of the asylum to come collect him and take him to the mortuary at the nearby hospital.

It seemed like a promising plan, but it was also compromising. There was always the risk of something going wrong and discovery. Again Jizabel had a remedy to ease Riff's uncertainty.

"You're in an asylum Riff; they'll blame whatever happens on your insanity. If you die they will think you committed suicide or bleed yourself to death if they're not complete idiots. Almost everything is in your favour of escaping. It all depends on how enthusiastic you are of escaping." The doctor's words still rang clear three days after he had said them. It was finally the time for action to be taken and the plan executed.

Riff had counted the hours, minutes and seconds, all his hopes hanging on a thin string that would snap at any moment. He _was _enthusiastic of escaping, it was just…things hadn't seemed to be in his favour anymore.

He ran his tongue over the upper row of his teeth and felt for the capsule lodged safely on his last tooth, waiting like he was for the stroke of eight o' clock to be announced from the nearby church. The minute and the hour hand were drawing nearer to the awaiting hour he had been yearning to come swifter. Each tick of the minute hand was the same rhythm Riff's heart pulsated against his aching chest.

_Five…_

_Four…_

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

Riff bit down on the capsule at exactly eight o' clock and soon fell into pretence of death. His expression softened and all traces of weariness and pain were replaced with a peacefulness that really did make him look like he was asleep for an eternal slumber. The eight-fifteen guard would be coming about to check on the _patients_ and discovery Riff's body and curse Lady Death for taking yet another madman whose friends or family paid for their incarceration.

Now it was a matter of waiting for Jizabel to keep his promise and come for him.

* * *

Another update! Sorry it took so long. My life is nothing but school, tests, and writing assignments. But none of that can keep me from writing this story!

I would liked to thank _Sorryll_ for pointing out to me that 'Jezebel'…means prostitute which is very interesting...So that would mean 'Jizabel' is the right way to write the good doctor's name, right? We'll just go with that. But really thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! Each one was so encouraging and made my day.


	5. Chapter 5

I have the most exciting news for you all! I have found a beta reader to proof read over this story. The wonderful Sorryll is my beta reader!

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chappy and who added this story to their story alerts. Thanks so much! Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

_The Devil's Gentlemen _

_Chapter V_

One would expect the inert body of a recently deceased person to be treated with more respect and handled with tender care when the body is going to be prepared and settled in its resting bed for all eternity. That is what we would all expect if said deceased was not classified as a raving madman who had been shunned by the world and left in the care of inconsiderate men.

Those who are faculty members of any asylum have grotesquely earned the reputation of being inhuman to the poor souls placed under their brutal care. They haven't an ounce of compassion coursing through their cold veins. In the place of compassion there is a strong concentration of sadism so pure that it obscures even the smallest drop of that wonderful humane emotion that we are all born with. It lies within us, the bearers, to manifest it so it can blossom and be executed for good.

Should it surprise anyone to learn that Riff, the loyal manservant and house steward under Cain's influence, was denied clemency and treated like dirt? Would it further surprise anyone to learn more about the abuse of his still body when he was under the effects of the poison and his ability to feel pain was numbed? It really shouldn't.

His body was dropped unceremoniously into a splintery and ill constructed coffin. No, even this was no coffin at all; it was more like an uneven long box with one side longer then the other that forced the guards to twist and bend his limbs in sickening ways until he fit.

The two bastards who had deposited the body of Riff in the coffin then proceeded to seal the lid with the cheapest nails that could be bought by a penny because the owner of the asylum saw no reason why he should waste good and expensive nails on a madman.

Not one bit of consideration was spared to Riff.

Down came the hammer upon the poorly made nails and sealed Riff within, leaving him in utter darkness. Now this was truly a living hell; to be buried alive and fearing with a beating heart if it was beating to have the lid opened and placed on a surgical table and cut open by a scalpel and have organs removed and blood dripping to the floor and smearing flesh. The stench of chlorine would pollute the air and make the nose wrinkle.

But Riff didn't feel any of it. He was senseless and under the pretence of a forged death that would end when Jizabel woke him up, or when he would wake up on his own. Round the corner came the carriage and in it went Riff's coffin. Beside the carriage and watching with a keen eye as the workers of the asylum loaded his cargo, Jizabel supervised and made sure the coffin was placed accordingly.

Once it was safely tucked in, Jizabel looked over at the driver and shared a knowing glance with him before climbing in with the coffin and seconds later the carriage was off down the eerie streets of London. With the asylum far behind them, Jizabel studied Riff's lodgings before giving a quiet sigh and proceeding to open the coffin.

Cassian, the carriage's driver, was given the order beforehand to take them to the edge of the city without stopping or slowing down. This he did and as Cassian drew them closure to the outskirts of London. Jizabel produced a crow bar and easily began to pry out the nails and tear the lid off cleanly. He shoved the lid to one side and looked in to see if Riff was still in his comatose state or was already beyond his reach. In other words, he was  
seeing if the butler was still alive or as good as dead.

Riff was still, but with the faintest signs of life that only an adept doctor could make out, signs that the eyes of an untrained person would not be able to spot. Jizabel made a swift calculation of time and concluded that Riff should wake up in a few more minutes. But he was wrong.

No long elegant finger twitched as he anticipated. There was no steady flow of breath making the chest raise and fall as there should have been and finally there was definitely no movement of the eyes underneath their transparent blinds to indicate true life had returned to Riff's cold body.

Something was undeniably wrong and it became more and more apparent as the seconds converted into dreary minutes and still he did not stir. The poison should have worn off by now yet it hadn't heeded the time. With a cool posture, Jizabel pulled out his pocket watch and placed two fingers over the carotid artery on Riff's neck and felt for a pulse. There was but a weak pulsation against his soft fingers but not enough beat to ensure that Riff would hold out for much longer.

Jizabel leaned forward and gingerly yet thoroughly examined Riff. He lifted his head and felt the back of it to see if there was any damage that might be preventing his awakening. There was. The slick and undeniable texture of blood was staining his fingers. The doctor pulled back his hand and saw it was blood and concluded the bastards at the asylum had handled Riff worst then a stack of hay.

Cain would not be happy at all if he found out that his beloved manservant had been treated so inhumanely and disgracefully. But Jizabel could mend the wound behind Riff's neck easily. The only thing he had to worry about was figuring out how to wake Riff up. The poison lingered heavily in his blood and the only way he could formulate of properly removing the poison was by performing a bloodletting or better yet with the use of leeches. It had been a while since Jizabel had used leeches on anything. But there was a problem. Where to get them at this time of night?

Jizabel tapped his scalpel thoughtfully against his chin and slightly looked out the open window to see the moon's gentle beams were temporarily painting the surface of the Thames a sublime silvery blue. A twisted smirk came alive on the doctor's face as he slowly looked again at Riff and said as if he was awake, "A bloodletting will promise to be too messy, but…leeches are so much cleaner and won't make such a mess."

* * *

His waiting had come to an end at long last. Cain uncapped the bronze polisher paste on the scattered documents that littered the floor. He made sure every ounce was squeezed out before he tossed it into the pile of flammable things. The only things he spared from the coming conflagration were the tomes that were rich with history and had nothing to do with his plans, therefore escaping from the angry flames that had yet to be started.

To give his uncle a taste of his own medicine and to give him fair warning that he should never trifle with him when the subject hinted Riff and even think about separating him and Riff again (I really don't understand this half of the sentence. Sorry.), Cain had rummaged through some documents stored in his desk and in various books and decided to add them to his collection to feed the fire. Cain went over to his desk and gathered all the papers he had chosen and added them to the pile in the middle of his room. He collected seven logs from the fireplace and dumped them in the growing heap.

When he was satisfied that it was enough to ensure a great blaze, Cain walked over to his bed, slipped on his black frock coat and pulled on his white gloves. He reached into one of his pockets and felt the shape of the vial of poison inside. As he turned, his booted foot kicked something and sent whatever it was under the bed. Frowning curiously, Cain crouched down and searched with his outstretched hand for whatever it was. He groped around until his fingertips grazed over a smooth object that seemed long and lithe. Wrapping his fingers around it Cain lured it out of the darkness and retrieved another surprise. It was his cane.

He smirked and stood up. He unscrewed the head of the cane and checked if by any chance there were any additional vials of poison within, but there was none. Nevertheless it was a comfort to him to have his cane again. Although it baffled him as to how it had come to be within the room since he had no memory of bringing it with him when he had been removed from the manor back in London. How anomalous a game it was indeed that fate liked to play!

With a swift yet calm stride Cain went to the bookcase and opened the secret passageway. It swung open and beckoned to him once more. Before he entered however, he pulled out the box of matches, struck one and threw it into the pile then watched as the fire quickly consumed all that was offered to it. But there was one last thing to be added to the hungry blaze and it was in the Earl's gloved hands. Without bothering to uncork it, Cain threw the vial of arsenic into the fire. At once, when the heat of the fire shattered the vial, the arsenic rained over the flames and made contact with the bronze polisher and caused the explosion Cain had been anticipating.

The bookcase closed with a soft clink and Cain quickly made his way down the black corridor with the assistance of a match and with a strong sense of determination and hope. By the time he had the door at the end of the corridor open and was heading for the door to the garden, he heard the house come alive and the air became saturated with the cries and screams of the inhabitants of the house.

As he turned the doorknob and walked out of the cellar, he could have sworn he heard his uncle yell his name above all the commotion taking control of the house. But he wasn't sure nor did he truly care. At this point he knew he had to be careful from being discovered. He didn't have much time before his uncle had every servant search for him.

Because of this strain of time Cain ran off to the stables and quickly mounted the first horse he laid eyes on and made off in the direction of London without a second glance behind him. Now the only thing that prompted him was his desire to see Riff again and the brilliant full moon looming over him. And also the threat of having his uncle hunt him down — Earl hunting was the name and catching Cain was the game — and bring him back. All these motives combined made Cain urge the horse to go faster and trot with all its might.


End file.
